His Dark Materials: The Icy Staff
by Amblonyx1991
Summary: An elderly Lyra reads an odd prophecy on the alethiometer. A snowman is going to start travelling between worlds and the dust is going to start leaking again. There are three people who can save the world; a girl with golden hair, a girl with hair of fire and a dragon tamer. His Dark Materials ROTBTD Fan Fic, Jackunzel
1. Chapter 1 - Lyra's Interpretation

**Hello everyone! Welcome to my very first fanfic. I'm a huge HDM fan and when I stumbled upon ROTBTD, I knew I had to try a crossover. Please review, I'm happy to hear any suggestions or critiques on my writing. I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 1

Lyra rubbed her hands together and stood gingerly. She pottered slowly over to the small wood stove in the corner of their study. Pantalaimon opened his eyes blearily and watched her. He did not get up. He never had the energy to do much these days. Lyra crouched down and carefully added wood into the stove before lighting a match and flicking it in as well. Her thoughts, as they often did, strayed to Will and for a moment she basked in the sweet memory of their first kiss under the warm sun in the land of the Mulefa. The warmth, the sweet fruit, the touch of his fingers on her lips. She smiled ruefully. The fire took hold and she closed the door, tottering back to her armchair and gently lowering herself into it.

"Where's the alethiometer, Pan?" she asked. "I think I'll try and do a reading before I go to bed." Her handsome pine marten daemon stretched and stood. He reached down next to his bed and lifted a worn velvet bag in his mouth. The daemon moved slowly and carefully, dragging the bag to Lyra. She bent and scooped him up, taking the bag from him as she did. A huge pile of books were stacked precariously next to her chair. It had taken a lifetime but she was finally reasonably confident at reading the alethiometer without consulting her books. But she liked to keep them close, sometimes she liked to double check what she was reading.

The fire flickered and Lyra felt the warmth filling the room. Her knuckles cracked as she unwrapped her most precious possession. The alethiometer was a fine looking as it always had been. Its owner had withered and aged. Now an old woman, Lyra still had a sharp tongue and a fierce determination to live well. She had never married, preferring to dedicate her time to her studies of the alethiometer and her job as a Scholar at St Sophia's. She and Pan lived alone, they had always preferred it that way. No one to comment on their odd witch-like power of separation. Someone to talk to about the bizarre events of their early years. She had still regularly visited King Iorek until his death nearly 70 years ago and she still kept in contact with Serafina Pekkala. The gyptians she knew were mostly gone now but she still got visits from Billy Costa's grandchildren whenever the boats were in town. It was a peaceful, slow life, exactly how she wanted it to be.

Pan reached up and placed his paws on her arm. She smiled at him and opened the alethiometer. The hands immediately started drifting in a vague, non-purposeful manner and both of them contemplated it calmly for a long while. But Lyra's brow furrowed and Pantalaimon gave a concerned squeak. The hands were suddenly moving purposefully. Lyra sat up straight, tucked her grey hair behind her ears and watched. The hands were moving rapidly but her eyes tracked them with practiced patience and she began to get glimpses of understanding. But this couldn't be right!

She looked down at Pan, who immediately jumped from her lap and ran to their desk, grabbing a pen and paper from it. As he returned, Lyra began memorizing the patterns of symbols and stops. She took the paper from Pan and started scribbling, her eyes darting between the symbol reader and her writing. It took nearly two hours and her brain felt fuzzy by the end of it. But she had a long list of notes to compare to the books and she wasn't ready to stop yet. She opened the first volume, checked the symbol, checked the number of stops, noted down the meaning. Opened the next book, repeated the process. The sun was glinting into the apartment by the time she was done. Her eyes were blazing through her exhaustion and she looked remarkably like Will. Pan glanced up at her.

"That's the strangest reading we've had in a while," he remarked. Lyra was still staring at the paper in front of her.

"I thought we had solved the issue of dust. But Pan, do you see what this means? Someone is going to be traveling between worlds again!" Will and Kirjava appeared in their mind as they last saw them; a boy with straight eyebrows barely controlling his tears and the big black cat by his side.

"It's impossible," said Pantalaimon. "The angels said all the windows were shut. No one can leave the world of the dead except through the window we left open. We saved the dust, we lived a full life! We built the kingdom of Heaven in our own world!"

Lyra said nothing. Her heart was starting to bound with hope. They could find this person. This snowman the alethiometer talked about. He could take them to Will. One last moment spent together. But she was also worried. The alethiometer said that this person was opening windows again and that dust would start leaking. Then it said some confusing things about a fire girl, a dragon boy and a girl with golden hair. None of it made sense! She shook her head.

"Maybe we read it wrong Pan. It's so hard to be sure of it anymore. It used to be so clear, remember when I just knew what it was saying? Let's take it to the college. Maybe Rapunzel will have some luck, she's been studying very hard and might see something we've missed." Rapunzel was a young girl studying at St Sophia's. She had a knack for the alethiometer and Lyra liked her. Her hair was rich and golden. Lyra's heart leapt again and she fought back the feeling. Ridiculous, the symbol reader didn't make prophecies. Lyra stood and headed to her bathroom. She would bath and head to the college immediately.


	2. Chapter 2 - Jack's Death

Chapter 2

Cold. Intense cold, painful cold, a flash of light. And then he was standing on the ice, looking at the dark hole where the water still splashed and lapped over the edges. He could hear his sister screaming but the sound was muffled, as if he was still under the water. He cocked his head curiously and walked towards her. But she turned and ran, looking straight through him.

She can't see me, he thought. What was happening?

He remembered seeing her on the ice, remembered his heart skipping a beat as he heard the deep cracking from beneath her. But what happened after that? The cold, the cold was everything.

His sister was back, she was quieter now and dragging the hands of their parents. His mother was screaming, he could see the pain and horror on her face. He could not hear her, the muffled sound had bled away completely. And speaking of bleeding, was the colour fading as well? It was getting darker, he knew that.

Taking a brave step forward, he looked down into the hole where his parents were now frantically reaching. A face appeared, frozen in terror. It was him. He was dead. Shock coursed through him but he felt strangely numb. Who were these people looking in horror at his dead body? Who was that little girl sobbing and sobbing her little heart out? Where was he? And then he noticed the shadows moving towards him. People, whispering people. He ran to the nearest shadow, suddenly desperate for answers.

"Where am I?" he tried to yell, the sound coming out as a hoarse whisper.

"Why you're dead ain't you!" the shadow whispered in reply. She was an old woman, withered and bent and she cackled at his confusion. "We're on the paths to the dead world. Just follow along lad, we'll find our way eventually! Just got to keep on walking." She shuffled off. The boy sat down.

Think, think, think! My name is Jack. I was saving my sister. It was so cold, the ice cracked. But the memories were fading, he could only hold onto his name by repeating it constantly. Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack.

Suddenly he was knocked to the ground. A large bearded man was staring at him. Jack stared back, not realising what he was seeing until he noticed that this man was wearing a red suit. He could see the colour!

"Ho ho, boy." The man had a thick Russian accent. Jack could do nothing but stare at the stranger, so alive in such a dead place. He swallowed and struggled to his feet. The man smiled grimly.

"That was good thing you did. Saved sister. Lost own life. Is sad. Sometimes life sad." Jack nodded mutely, still confused by this lively stranger. He noticed then that he was still clutching the stick he had used to swing his sister away from the cracking ice. Wait, where had it come from? He didn't remember having it before now.

"Would you like to go back?" asked the bearded man. "Just use stick. I make magic, you use stick to go back. You still have big job to do in other worlds."

"I….I….don't….worlds?" stammered Jack. He was so confused. Use the stick? Other worlds? What even was this day! Finally he settled on replying "Who are you?"

The man chuckled, holding his belly as he did so. It was a wholesome laugh and Jack smiled in return.

"It is not important who I am. Only who you are. And I know that you must go back, so I help! Use the stick, just wave in front of you."

Jack, feeling ridiculous, waved the stick in front of him. There was a flash of light and he gasped. The stick had changed in his hand. It was now an ornate staff and he could almost feel the power emanating from it. It was also colourful, now one of two living things on this pathway to the world of the dead.

"Good!" boomed the man. "Now stick knows you, now you do this!" He gestured in mid-air, holding his imaginary stick straight in front of him and then rapidly striking down. Jack hesitated and held the stick out, once again feeling foolish.

"Well, here goes nothing," he muttered and imitated the man. A hole appeared in mid-air. Jack yelled and stumbled backwards, falling hard on the ground. The bearded man chuckled heartily.

"Good job!" he boomed. "Now step through hole back to your home!"

Jack was back on his feet and peering curiously through into the world beyond. He could see the pond but it was no longer frozen. The bright light of a summer sunset beamed through the trees. He could feel the warmth, his whole body yearned towards it. But still he hesitated and looked up at the man.

"Go back?" he asked. "But how long have I been gone?"

The man smiled sadly and did not answer. Jack went to speak again but the man just shook his head and gestured him through the tear in the world. Jack looked through once more and the sunlight almost gripped him. He tried to step through. It was like stepping through glue. The air resisted him, he pushed and shoved but still felt himself making headway. And then suddenly, he was through. And that was when the pain hit him. He screamed.

Agonising pain, as if his heart was being pulled from his chest, as if his brain was being frozen all over again, as if all of his limbs were being shattered and stamped on. He had no voice, he had no breath, he was sobbing and crying out. His mind was a rapid race of thoughts, none of them good.

Please let the pain stop, please, I can't take it. Take my sister, take her, I stole her from death and this is my punishment. She deserves it, not me. My parents deserve it, anyone deserves it, PLEASE STOP!

The last word pounded in his head so loudly that he could have sworn the pond rippled with the force of it. A freezing cold gripped him and his first thought was that he died again. But he could feel soft puffs of cold hitting his arms and was suddenly aware of the freezing air entering his lungs. And then he felt a soft touch, like a feather falling gently on his nose. Then it pressed against him and he felt whiskers. His eyes snapped open and he gasped.

The summer sun was still seeping through the trees but on closer inspection, this wasn't the pond in which he died (but was he dead still? He didn't know). The trees around this pond were beautiful silvery willows whose leaves were delicately trailing into the water. Except for the one closest to him. That was frozen solid, perfectly encased from its roots to the leaves touching the water. The area around him looked like a snowstorm had hit it. And standing on the snow in front of him was a beautiful, snow white arctic hare. She twitched her nose and flicked her ears before suddenly racing at him. She bounded around him in sheer delight and he could tell she was delighted, he could feel it. Jack laughed and turned around with her, watching the snow melting in the warm sun, feeling so alive.

The hare stopped and looked at him. Her eyes were dancing and she was panting. He reached out to her and she came to his hand, nuzzling his fingers gently.

"Nice to meet you!" she chirped suddenly. Jack gaped and stared at her.

"You….you can….talk?" he croaked.

"Better than you apparently!" the hare chirped jovially. She scampered around him in another quick circle, kicking up her feet and dusting snow into his face. "This was quite a trick we did, there's snow everywhere! I think it came from the stick." She paused and nibbled gently at the staff. Jack looked at it and understood that she wanted him to try it out again. He stood and waved it gently. Soft flakes drifted around them and the hare stood up with her long ears pricked, sniffing.

"It's beautiful." Jack whispered. He looked down at the hare and knew that she was part of him. She had been torn from his chest, painfully and traumatically but they were one. Although he didn't know why she was a hare, or hell, why she was a she. Fanndís, that was her name, he thought.

"And you're Jack Frost!" she replied, although he hadn't said her name out loud. She ran in another tight loop, prancing through the stone and Jack laughed loudly. He was alive!


End file.
